A Bittersweet Kind of Love

The First Encounter

1991. Los Angeles. Moonlit hours on a summer night.

I leaned in the doorway of my sister's apartment and played with my nails as she rambled on about one of her boyfriends. I came here to quickly drop off some medicine for her sick behind and 15 minutes later, I'm officially trapped, listening to her drama. Usually I wouldn't mind, but I was hungry. I slid my right leg up on the door. I have no idea what she's saying at this point. All I can think about is what I'm going to eat when I get home.

"And, girl, let me tell you what this no-good-big bird bitch—"

Sighing, I had to cut her off. "Ky Ky, I really have to go," I said raising my back off the door. "I hope you feel better, okay?"

"You know, I wish you cared a little more," she said, hand on the hip, neck rolling, nose all red and snorting. "You suck."

"I just dropped you off some damn medicine," I laughed. "Love you, Rudolph."

"Ari?" She was calling for me but I was not stopping my legs from reaching my car in the lot. I spun around and blew her a kiss. "You really gonna leave?"

"Love you!"

My growling tummy had me speeding. And I've always been the type to stay in the right lane but I had some fried chicken, greens and potato salad sitting in the fridge. My mommy dropped off the plate just that morning and her leftovers always hit the spot.

Closer to my neighborhood, I had to drive down these long, windy roads that were always empty so I didn't see any harm pushing 20 over the speed limit. It was too late for kids to be out playing so I paid no mind to the "drive like your kids live here" signs. But still, just thinking about parking and settling in and heating the food, my hungry butt started reaching in the glove compartment for a snack bag of pretzels.

Naturally, my eyes glanced over to my wandering hand and BAM, in that small moment of desperation, I almost die. Someone crashed into my passenger side and my head thrashed into the dashboard on impact.

Thank God my little red Mazda didn't flip or anything but I was frozen in shock. As I sat there, pressing my hands against the pounding of my heart, I saw the banged up culprit drive away. But I couldn't turn mad. I was still assessing that I was still alive.

After a minute or so, I was able to safely park on the side of the road in the grass. I then unbuckled my seatbelt and got out to see the damage. It wasn't as bad as it felt. Everything was still intact but the passenger door of my coupe was caved in.

The roads were pretty dark, thanks to the scanty and dim streetlamps, actually kind of creepy. But I was still catching my breath and too shaky to drive. I just leaned on the car and took deep breaths, trying to find my center again.

Headlights were coming around the corner, and I was hoping whomever wouldn't stop and try to help. I was too paranoid for that. But the car reached as I was opening my driver door, and I stopped and stared when I noticed the other car was all beat up. It did a U-turn and parked in the grass behind me, then a tall bald guy in a dress shirt and slacks stumbled out.

"Listen, are you okay?" he asked.

"You did this?"

"No, you did that," he said, having the nerve to point his finger at me. "I was pulling out at the stop sign and you came flying outta nowhere! I just'a cames back t'see if yous were okay and going to, to get your insurance info so you can pay for my car's damaged."

I rolled my eyes. This dude was definitely drunk.

"You do got insurance right!?"

"Yes, of course I do! But this isn't my fault! I'm calling the police!" I opened my car door and leaned in, looking for my cell, ignoring whatever he had to say. Off the floor, I grabbed my new Motorola flip phone, '91's best one out. I stood outside ready to make the call but before I could even flip the phone open, another tall man in all black stepped out from the backseat.